


TBD...

by Dewdropzz



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Character's inner thoughts, F/M, First Person, POTC - Freeform, Pirates, Plot analysis, Scene by scene soliloquy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:02:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewdropzz/pseuds/Dewdropzz
Summary: "It would have been a kinder dealing to allow me to die with the others than to subject me to the torment of my current state: ridden with survivor's guilt, sick with the memory of the Deliverer in flames flashing before my eyes every time I close them, ears still ringing with the sound of screams and cannon fire; tied so tightly to these splintering planks of wood that it's difficult to breathe the salt air..."In attempt to delve deeper into, and flesh out this awesome character with so much potential, I've had the idea of writing a series of interior monologue oneshots, one for every Philip scene in "On Stranger Tides"... If enough of you guys are interested (just a few will do!), I'll write more over time. :)





	1. Aboard a Hellbound Vessel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody! First of all, thank you very much for clicking on this story! Philip is a character from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise who, in my humble opinion, deserves much more attention than he gets. Our courageous young missionary was such an integral part of "On Stranger Tides", and yet (again, in my opinion) he wasn't even given enough screen time in the one and only movie he was featured in!
> 
> In attempt to delve deeper into, and flesh out this awesome character with so much potential, I've had the idea of writing a series of interior monologue "oneshots", one for every Philip scene in OST, maybe with a little extra in there to make it all flow. :)
> 
> I don't know if this is an idea that'll be liked or lumped by the fanfiction community, so I'll start off by posting one introductory scene, set slightly pre-movie, just before the events of On Stranger Tides, right after Philip was captured, on his first day tied to the mast of Queen Anne's Revenge. If enough of you guys are interested (just a few will do!), I'll write more over time. :)
> 
> Philip is quite a pleasure to write! I hope I've at least somewhat done him justice!

I have often wondered what it looks like to God when he gazes down at his creation from his celestial thrown.

Could God hold the entire universe in his realm of vision at once, if he so chose? From his supernal vantage point, so high above us all, could he witness the inner happenings of every country, every colony, every king's land and sovereign state, from a distance; see it all, and intervene with an omnipotent power on occasions when he sees fit? With the West in his left eye and the East in his right, is this how the God of scripture is all-knowing, omnipresent, and almighty, beholding the proceedings of every place, beholding the evil and the good? 

While I dare not compare myself to God in any other way, roped to the thirty-foot mast of a sailing vessel so formidable and unworldly I cannot guess the exact measurements, I find myself at a similar vantage point. I see every goings on below me: the sailing master charting our wayward course to who-knows-where, the boatswain making sure we're in good condition for our journey, the officers bellowing orders at the petrified crew who have no choice but to swiftly and silently comply. I, however, unlike our Lord on high with his unimpeded view of creation, have no power to intervene, whatsoever. 

They say if I talk, or create a disturbance, or in general cause my presence to be noticed, I die... and in that respect I don't question the integrity of the quartermaster's words. 

Only yesterday I sailed upon a vessel of a different kind — a passenger ship with white sails weather-worn from years of steadfast service —the HMS Deliverer. I was setting out from England to join up with a small mission group, my very first, on a remote Southwestern island. We were going to spread the teachings of the Christian church, while working to improve the living conditions of the island's poor and destitute inhabitants. 

My fellow voyagers were honest men and women, merchants travelling, families en route to new lives of promise in the Caribbean... 

None of them had any idea... that eternity was careening irreversibly toward them. 

From out of nowhere, the Deliverer was overtaken by a pirate's ship, more ghastly than any which had ever been described to me, more akin to something straight out of the depths of Hell than any carnal object I have ever laid eyes on. The sound of its cannons I shall never forget; metal ripping through the air — it seemed to cut the sky in two. 

But it was not cannon fire, sadly, brutally as it is to recall, that was the ultimate cause of the Deliverer's demise. A supernatural force, not of God or any of his angels, took hold of the ship, uncannily, by every rope it possessed. 

...I was the only one left alive. 

I stood by and watched as every man, woman, and child on board were asphyxiated by the choking snare of the ropes... if they were not lucky enough to fall early victim to the cannon. 

I don't know why they kept me alive. 

Oh Lord, why did they keep me alive? 

It would have been a kinder dealing to allow me to die with the others than to subject me to the torment of my current state: ridden with survivor's guilt, sick with the memory of the Deliverer in flames flashing before my eyes every time I close them, ears still ringing with the sound of screams and cannon fire; tied so tightly to these splintering planks of wood that it's difficult to breathe the salt air, thin with the altitude and already able to sting one's lungs if they were breathing freely; observing every silently mouthed prayer, every tear, every tremble of the crew as they are bullied and browbeaten into abject submission! 

...But _kindness_ does not seem to be an attribute of this captain's soul. 

I am afraid. Though I fear for my own life, as per natural human instinct, that anxiety pales in comparison to the fear I have for the lives of those around me, or... below me. 

I have not yet seen anyone die at the hands of the officers, but then, I wonder if that is a command that has to come directly from the captain. I haven't seen the captain yet, either. 

As hurried footfall resounds from the deck, as the crew shrinks from the hot words of their dictator on the backs of their necks, I close my eyes once more, trying to ignore the visions of a ship and a hundred futures in flames... and I drift into another round of prayer. 

No matter where, or when, or how my earthly life ends, I know eternity is secure for me. 

But for all the other unfortunate souls aboard this Hellbound vessel, I pray. Miraculously, my Bible has survived the tumultuous events of the past day and night, and is in my hand to this very moment. My hands are tied down in a way that inhibits me from opening and reading it, of course... I think the captain did it on purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hi guys! This 600-and-something words of somewhat disjointed rambling is another kinda "fill in the blanks" scene. I had the part of the movie where Jack looks up and sees Philip on the mast for the first time in mind when I wrote it. What could Philip have been thinking about, hanging up there for so long?**
> 
> **This scene mainly serves to enforce Philip's growing animosity for Blackbeard, as well as attempting (*cough* and maybe failing *cough*) to explain why the poor guy didn't starve to death while he was up there — something in the movie that I've always wondered about!**
> 
> **Sorry this thing still doesn't have a title! I'll try to come up with an appropriate one when I know for sure whether I'm going to continue with it. And that'll be up to you, my lovely Pirates friends! If I think people are reading, then I'll definitely keep writing!**
> 
> **...Okay, I'll start the story now. xD**

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five days. 

I have been up here for five days now. 

I've seen five sunrises, five sunsets. Five days of watching crewmen — spiritually drained and physically exhausted, but no less frightened than they were at the start of this journey into the abyss — scampering around below me like ants on a dirt mound, trying to get all their work done whilst trying _not_ to be stepped on. 

It is torture.

The crew, every one of the woebegone insects, are constantly under the tyrannical gaze of the quartermaster, who supervises their labours. The quartermaster himself is a curious creature indeed. He's as villainous and contemptible as they come, yes, but still I can't shake the feeling that he is not in control of his own actions...

After three days of being tied to the mast, the quartermaster cut me down. He brought me food (at least what is considered so by the ship's standards) and water. He allowed me only a half an hour's relief from my crow's nest prison, but I know that that half an hour of being able to eat and drink and move freely is all that's kept me alive up to this point... And that was the objective of whoever issued the order, I suppose. To keep me alive.

When I say the quartermaster is not in control of his own actions, I don't mean simply that he is accountable to a higher authority. The man looks like an empty carcass where a soul used to be, as if his inner person has been ripped out of him and all that's left is a mindless, slightly decomposed version of his former self... 

Satan's powers are clearly at work aboard this unsanctified vessel. And who could be wielding them, who could be using the supernatural forces of darkness to manipulate everything and everyone around them to achieve their own perverted ends, but the captain?

The captain. His identity is still unknown to me, though I swear I've heard whisperings of a name circulating on the wind — a dreadful name, one that strikes fear into the hearts of every pirate and honest seamen... Blackbeard. 

I don't know if I have actually heard the name, or if my disturbed subconscious is simply attributing the alias of the world's most notorious pirate captain to the leader of this expedition based on the barbaric acts I've seen committed on this ship. I've seen men flogged for pausing for breath during duties, beaten for pleading a moment's relief. Terrified men, without the foggiest knowledge as to where they are headed, the tiniest glimmering of an idea if they'll even survive the day...

I've learned something about these men during my five days incarcerated. They say they're paid labourers, and paid they might be, still they're prisoners same as I am. Deceived, shanghaied into service; apparently they were led to believe they'd be sailing under Captain Jack Sparrow, the infamous pirate lord who fought valiantly against the East India Trading Company in the great battle a few years back.

Oddly enough, there appears to be a rumour going around that Jack Sparrow, the pirate lord in the flesh, is actually aboard this ship! That an individual as wily and cunning as Sparrow could wind up in a situation as unfortunate as this seems highly implausible... Most likely it's only a rumour. The men need seafaring fancy and fable to keep then going. It _has_ to be a rumour...

Regardless, whomever the captain of this accursed voyage may be, when at last I lay eyes on him, I will not hold back from judging him with a righteous judgement. If devils are to be rebuked, he should be chastised the most mercilessly of all, for he has shown no mercy. 

Five days tied to the mast of a pirate ship... I don't know how much longer I can survive. If there were any time for me to be cleaving to, crying out to the Lord, it is now. 

And yet the author of all this misery and anguish is inspiring within me thoughts that are anything but Christian.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I continue?


End file.
